Thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers!
“I think we may have misjudged the situation,” I say.
“Ya think?” Lindsey asks. Continue reading
Surprise! Actually it’s more of a surprise to me than anyone else, I think. Suddenly it’s here. Again. Doesn’t it just seem like yesterday I was clawing through NaNo for 2016 with my infamous (in my own mind) “Riot of Purple Profanity?” Many of you gave input and encouragement. (Many thanks!) Some of you may have even giggled at the sometimes purple prose. (I did.) I still haven’t reread that book. Like I said, it feels like yesterday in many respects as did the self-induced pressure of posting an installment each day. As you can guess, that isn’t happening this year. Continue reading
Sunday Photo Fiction. Click on the link to see the instruction and join. And, thanks to Alistair for hosting! 🙂
I wonder if Orson Welles knew that his stunt back in 1938 would have copycats even now 79 years later. While the details have changed, there’s always someone out there who thinks it’s colossal fun to cause panic around Halloween. Last year it was the “clown” guy and this year it’s the Predator, which I think is pretty lame because that just screams costume.
He was the kind of man a woman would happily bring home to meet her parents. We had been seeing each other for only a week, but every day since October 24 so I felt I really knew him.
Leaves crackled underfoot as we walked, arm in arm. The park was quiet, with parents and kids home, readying for Halloween evening.
“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his brown canvas messenger bag.
I smiled in anticipation and then he presented me with a plush Frankenstein toy. It almost looked homemade with hand-sewn stitching.
“How cute!” I said, desperately trying to ignore the putrid odor wafting around us. I looked around trying to determine its origin and realized I was holding it.
I glanced uneasily at him.
“I’m not easy to love,” he said.
“Oh, pfft,” I said, trying not to gag.
“But you make me feel loved so I wanted you to have a piece of all the hearts of women who rejected me,” he said.
end 11/4/2016 (125)
(self eyeroll…..it’s never good when you don’t proof your title; and then when there’s a grammar error in your acknowledgement that you goofed on your title. I think there will be a lot of bad grammar in the days to come…doesn’t bode well.)
A soft rain falls, making the rusted leaves shiny under the street lamp’s glow. The smell of moldering earth rises around me.
The street’s quiet, the trick-or-treaters long settled in their homes.
The veils has lifted, the separation between worlds indistinct. If you listen closely, you can hear it, the sound like a high-pitched scream, fading in and out between the patter of raindrops.
As I walk, I keep focused on not reacting to the movements others would not see, the sounds others would not hear. It’s an eerie calm I feel, but this not my first rodeo or Halloween. One inattentive reaction could make it my last.
photo by Shaun Holloway
My sister, as usual proclaims that she is the artist, which means: she carves and I scrape the innards out.
Scrape is a lax term because what happens is that my hand gropes in, scoops the brains and seeds from inside, and clasps them tightly, squishy, oogledy.
I glance at her, with her perfectly coiffed blonde hair, make up just so and am startled that I release my fistful of squishy oogledy with such force that, well, oops, Mom and Dad, it accidently found its way like a magnet to her awesome, artistic, beautifulness—my bad.
It’s all fun and games until someone throws the pumpkin guts….oh, that IS the fun and games.
Happy Halloween! Love, Sascha Darlington with a big cauldron of mini-Snickers.
photo by Mike Wilson
Never take Route 7 after 2 am; never stop at that service station after midnight; and never ever be on that highway on Halloween.
My gas gauge has been dipping toward “E” since my recklessness spirited me out of the cabin after Daryl and I argued over where we were spending Thanksgiving.
Warnings toss through my head as I pull into the station where a “service” sign flickers, but another car’s being gassed up and with relief I glance over at it just as a bloodied hand smears the inside passenger window.
I used to read romance novels all of the time. It was my guilty pleasure in between reading more serious books or writing. And, then I kind of fell away from it and then when I wanted to read again, I kept finding some really mediocre reads and felt that maybe romance books had taken a tumble.
In the past few months, since I’ve started blogging, I’ve picked up some. A few haven’t been very good, but some have been really, really good, thus restoring my faith in my guilty pleasure.
One such romance read is The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine, which is a compilation of three novellas that center around Moonbright, Maine and a B&B, which is, of course, the cottage on Pumpkin and Vine. Each novella takes place on or around Halloween and includes Amelia Rose, the owner of the B&B and a huge amount of magic.
All three stories are quite good, certainly above average, but it’s Enchanted by You by Sharla Lovelace that really scores with me. Sidney and Sawyer are the couple in this one and they are sweet and their romance is scorching and sensual and, okay, if Paris Hilton hadn’t ruined this word for me, I’d say: “HOT!” But, it’s not just sexy, it’s everything that a romance should be, in a very small package. This story is enough for me to check out her full-length novels in hopes that they are just as good.
The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine is on sale in just a few days in time for your Halloween reading.
I received an ARC from NetGalley and Kensington Books in exchange for an honest review.
From Amazon: The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
rating: (4 butterflies and a ladybug out of 5 butterflies)